A Fate Worse Than Death
by Evilkitten3
Summary: In which Balalaika, thanks to Rock's puppy-dog-eyes, decides to allow Gretel to live – provided that she can prove herself capable of living a normal life. In an attempt to kill two birds with one stone, the Russian woman sends the remaining twin to a certain info broker who owes her a favor. Full summary inside. I dunno what's wrong with me... Izamie & Mairetel because it's funny.
1. On a Boat

**Title**: A Fate Worse Than Death

**Summary**: In which Balalaika, thanks to Rock's puppy-dog-eyes, decides to allow Gretel to live – provided that she can prove herself capable of living a normal life. In an attempt to kill two birds with one stone, the Russian woman sends the remaining twin to a certain info broker who owes her a favor. Tasked with caring for one person who thinks they're a pair of twins, a pair of twins who think they're one person, and two freelancer teenagers, will Izaya be able to score with his secretary?

**Characters**: Orihara Izaya, Gretel, Yagiri Namie, Kida Masaomi, Mikajima Saki, Orihara Mairu, Orihara Kururi, Rock, Balalaika, Revy, Shenhua, Heiwajima Shizuo, Kishitani Shinra, Celty Sturluson, Mr. Chang, Kuronuma Aoba, Vorona

**Pairings**: Izaya/Namie, Masaomi/Saki, Aoba/Kururi, Rock/Revy, Mairu/Gretel, Shinra/Celty, possible Shizuo/Vorona, referenced Mikado/Anri and Seiji/Mika

**Warnings**: Crack, sibling love (creepy and not creepy), foul language

**AN**: Basically, Balalaika trolls everyone, Izaya and Rock try to get laid, Kida and Saki are the world's most adorkable creepers, Namie and Revy bitch a lot, Kururi lords her ginormous boobs over everyone, and Mairu and Gretel try to out-gay each other.

It is said by so-called 'experts' that most criminals are foolish, and only became criminals because they were too damn retarded to accomplish anything else. Perhaps that is true. However, even the most notoriously stupid of criminals wasn't stupid enough to do something extremely fucking dangerous. There were very few things in existence that were considered 'extremely fucking dangerous' by the people of Roanapur, if only because the majority of said people lived extremely fucking dangerous lives.

Despite the supposed (and often quite accurate) stupidity of the criminals in Roanapur, there were rules that people were expected to follow. These rules were not written down, because, as far as the gangs were concerned, anyone dumb enough to ignore the rules got exactly what was coming to them. 1. Don't mess with the Lagoon Company. 2. Don't mess with the Hong Kong Triad. 3. Don't mess with Hotel Moscow. 4. Don't mess with the Rip-Off Church. 5. Leave the CIA alone, and they'll leave you alone (and they'll possibly also help you out if the NSA gets involved). 6. Don't get involved with anyone dressed as maid; she can and will kick your ass. 7. Regardless of how he or she may appear, anyone who has stood up to Balalaika or Mr. Chang (or, in rare cases, both), and lived to tell about it, is to be respected and feared. 8. No one will judge you for mocking the Colombian Cartel, so long as you do it where they can't hear you. 9. Buying meat from U. G. Pork is going to increase your chances of diseases like kuru. 10. If an outsider comes in and starts acting like he (or she) owns the place, mortal enemies are allowed to team up to get rid of them.

50% of the time, breaking one of these rules was tantamount to suicide. 80% of the time, breaking two of these rules meant you were either dead, wishing you were dead, or in for a very nasty surprise. 99.9% of the time, breaking more than two of those rules meant that you were currently in a ditch, with your lungs a good ten feet away in another ditch. One man, however, had not only broken seven of these rules, but had escaped without a single scratch. His name was Okajima Rokuro, better known as Rock.

Rock worked for the Lagoon Company, had called Mr. Chang an 'inhuman piece of shit' over the phone, had called out Balalaika _twice_ over her callousness, had gotten involved with people dressed as maids multiple times, had stood up to Balalaika and Mr. Chang and fucking _Revy Two-Hands_ and was still standing, and half the town was convinced that he was from – or had least had a contact from – the CIA. Honestly, if it weren't for the fact that he had no mortal enemies and was too polite to mock anyone he wasn't working with, people would've been watching to see when he broke the rest of the rules. As it was, no one would have been surprised to see him eating something packaged by Sawyer the Cleaner at this point. After all, someone who had survived this long in Roanapur without ever killing anyone, apparently had a death wish the size of Revy's repair bill from the Yellow Flag, and could still hold onto his ideals? There had to be something wrong with him.

What people didn't know was this: not only had Rock managed to get this far without killing anyone, he had also saved a life. In any other town, this wouldn't have been very impressive. But this was Thailand. _Roanapur_, Thailand. If one were to ask someone what he felt his greatest accomplishment was, the response would depend on the person asked. If you asked Revy, his greatest accomplishment would be sleeping with her. If you asked Balalaika, Mr. Chang, Benny, or Dutch, his greatest accomplishment would be surviving this long. If you asked a member of the Lovelace family, you would likely get several nasty looks and a couple new holes.

However, if you asked Rock himself – if you managed to get him on his own, without Two-Hands, Balalaika, or Mr. Chang around – you would learn that, as far as he was concerned, his greatest accomplishment was the time he had wrapped his arms around the newest member of the Lagoon crew, and said three words.

"Welcome home, Gretel."

*One year earlier*

"Silence, Rock." The cold voice of the Russian woman cut through the already tense air like a chainsaw through a soon-to-be-dead person. Ice blue eyes met terrified brown as both Rock and Balalaika ignored Revy's hisses of '_shut up you fucking idiot dammit shut your damn fucking mouth you brainless fuck_'. The Romanian girl (or boy, possibly) standing behind Rock tilted her head to the side in a curious manner, as if unaware of the danger she was in. She wasn't, of course, unaware of anything, but it was pointless to try and escape now, and she was curious to see how far this man she barely knew would go to protect her.

"No way!" Rock yelled. "You think I'm just gonna stand by and watch you gun down a little girl who just lost her brother?"

"You think I'm just going to let her get away with murdering my men?" the blonde woman responded. "She's not a little girl, Rock, she's an insane murderer."

"No one ever gave her a chance!" Rock insisted.

"So what?" Revy snapped. "No one gave me a damn chance; where the hell were you then? Besides, you can't change the past, so get out of the way and let Sis end this already!"

"I can't so that," Rock said quietly. "I just can't."

"Why not?" Gretel asked. Rock turned to her, surprised. "Why are you trying to save me? It doesn't matter, because we're eternal."

"You aren't eternal!" Rock's fists clenched as he spoke. "You're a little girl who got thrown away by the world and turned into a monster!"

"Exactly," said Balalaika. "Now get out of the way, and I'll rid the world of her, once and for all."

"If you're going to get rid of monsters, turn that gun on yourself!" Rock yelled furiously. "You can't deny her the right to a normal life!"

"She is no longer capable of leading one," said Boris, stepping forward. "That little girl could never–"

"You don't know that!" Rock snapped. He was shaking. "Please… please, just give her a chance! Just… just one chance…" Balalaika looked down at him.

"And what form do you suggest this chance come in?" she asked, amused. "I certainly hope you don't think I'll allow you to raise her." Rock was silent.

"Why not?" he said suddenly. "What if you give her a year – just one year, that's all I'm asking – to prove that she's capable of being helpful to us? I'll take responsibility for her, and–"

"And if she can't, you'll die alongside her?" Balalaika raised an eyebrow. "I don't think so. I certainly don't need that brat slaughtering the entirety of the Lagoon Company." Rock took a step back, pulling Gretel to his side.

"Just one chance." He repeated. Balalaika was silent for a moment, as if thinking it over.

"If I might interrupt?" the Lagoon crew and the members of Hotel Moscow turned to Boris, who had a contemplative look on his face. "What if we gave her to someone who owes us a favor? That informant never paid us back for the mishap that happened during our deal with the Awakusu-kai, and this might be a good way to, so to speak, kill two birds with one stone."

"Very well." the Russian woman turned to face Rock, casting a quick glare at Gretel. She waved a hand, and Boris pulled out his phone, dialed a number, and began talking rapidly in Russian. "You will send the brat to Shinjuku. All travel expenses will be coming out of your wallet, Rock, as you're essentially a client for your own business. The brat will leave all weapons behind and will have exactly one year – three hundred and sixty-five days, no more – to prove that she is capable of living a normal life. Should she fail, both she and her caretaker will be killed, as will you. Are we clear?" Relief swept through the Japanese man, and he collapsed to his knees embracing the girl whose life he'd just saved.

"Yes. Thank you," he breathed. Balalaika's lip curled.

"That empathy will be the death of you," she noted. Balalaika met the curious eyes of the child she had – on a whim – allowed to live. "One chance." She said simply. "No more. If you take even one life in the next year, I'll have the three of you killed anyway. Understand, you little bitch?" Gretel nodded, deciding not to speak.

"So, this guy lives in Japan?" Revy asked, trying (for once) to ease the tension.

*Three weeks later; 11:48 pm*

Gretel stepped off the boat, looking around. Balalaika cleared her throat, and the young girl turned to face her.

"Your caretaker will be sending someone to pick you up," she said coolly. "At midnight, your year will start. Don't fuck it up." Gretel nodded, wondering if going along with this was the best idea. She could probably escape, but Rock would certainly be killed, and she wasn't too sure if she liked the thought of that. Out of nowhere, Revy blanched.

"Shit." The gunslinger swore. "Hey brat, do you know Japanese?" There was an awkward silence, in which no one missed the vindictive smirk on Balalaika's face.

"No, I don't," Gretel answered. "Rock taught me a little on the way over, though." Footsteps could be heard on the dock, and the odd group turned to see a gorgeous woman walking toward them, an annoyed look on her beautiful face.

"It doesn't matter whether she does or not," the woman said, in slightly accented English. "That bastard speaks pretty much every language known to man."

"Indeed." Balalaika's lip curled. "Care to explain why he couldn't be bothered to come himself? I'm afraid I didn't get an adequate response." The woman snorted.

"That's a good thing," she replied. "If he'd bothered to answer you, you likely would've gotten a load of crap. He's not here because he thinks it's funny to make me do his dirty work. That, and he's in a meeting right now."

"I see." Said the Russian. "Very well then." Rock led Gretel forward.

"This is Gretel," he said. "Please don't be too harsh on her."

"I don't care who she is," the woman told him. "So long as I get my paycheck. I just hope that that bastard doesn't expect me to babysit the brat." Balalaika nodded.

"Fair enough." She said. "I'll return in a year, probably to kill you." Gretel blinked, not looking very concerned.

"Oh, okay." She looked up at the new woman. "I'm Gretel." She told her.

"I'm aware," said the woman coolly. "And I honestly couldn't care less." She turned on her heel, walking back to her car. With one last glance at Rock (who gave her a tentative grin and a hopeful nod), Gretel followed.

"…We're screwed," Revy stated. "You know that, right?" Rock sighed.

"Yeah. Sorry."

*Twenty-seven minutes later; 12:15 pm*

"I'm Gretel," Gretel introduced herself again.

"Are you now?" her new caretaker asked.

"Would you like proof?" she returned.

"Considering who you are and what you're like, I think I'll just take your word for it," he smirked at her. "My name, as you were undoubtedly already told, is Isaiah Orihara." She tilted her head.

"I was told that your name was 'Orihara Izaya'," she said, not really caring.

"In Japanese, yes," Izaya agreed. "But we're speaking English. You did get the pronunciation right, though, so congrats. Most people can't even read my first name." The woman, whose name remained a mystery to Gretel, snorted.

"That would be because your name is spelled in the most absurd manner that your parents could find," she sneered. Izaya clasped a hand across his chest, sighing as dramatically as possible.

"You wound my fragile heart, Namie-san," he chirped. The woman – Namie, apparently – rolled her eyes, and returned to organizing a large stack of files.

"What do I do now?" Gretel asked. Izaya shrugged.

"Unpack, I suppose," he offered. "It was short notice, but I do have a spare room aside from the one Namie-san uses when she decides that she can't get enough of me and–" the aforementioned woman smacked his head. "Namie-san!"

"You mean, the room I use when you overwork me, or decide you want me to make you breakfast, or if you remember that you don't have any friends and want me to sleep over so you can pretend that there's someone on the face of this planet who cares about your worthless ass." she snapped, stalking out of the room.

"…She wants me," Izaya decided. Gretel blinked.

"You don't seem like a very good judge of character," she decided. Izaya pouted, not looking the slightest bit ashamed.

"Whatever," he waved her off. "Namie will show you to your room, and I'll find something for us to do later. However, it's almost half past midnight, which means we're all going to bed." He stood up and stretched. "Feel free to let Namie-san know that she's welcome to join me." Gretel stared at his back as he walked off towards what must be his room, before turning and trotting after Namie.

**AN: I don't know what the hell I'm doing, but I'm not apologizing. This story is mostly humor-based, but there are a few serious moments as well as a mangled thing that might once have been a potential plot. Oh, well. See you!**


	2. Cinnamon French Toast

**AN: I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. I mean, anyone who read the last chapter already knows how this story will end, so the only purpose to this story is really just to see how much hijinks I can fit in between the beginning and the end. Well, I hope you enjoy. Also, the first bit of this chapter was written while I was extremely upset, so I can't promise that it'll be good.**

Gretel was woken up by the smell of cinnamon. Sitting up, she glanced around her new room to get her bearings. Last night, she hadn't bothered to turn on the lights – she had been so tired, she had just undressed and fallen asleep in her bed. And now, she was being woken by the smell of cinnamon (Gretel knew what cinnamon smelled like, although she had never tasted it before. It had been a luxury that she and Hansel could not afford).

The room was not enormous, but it certainly was bigger than any room Gretel had ever had before. There was a dresser, a bookshelf, a bed (which she was sitting on), a desk, and an oddly shaped chair. Gretel had never seen such a strange chair before.

The chair had a back and a seat, like a normal chair, but both were squishy, like pillows, and connected by a curved piece of plastic. The armrests were made from the same squishy-pillow-ness, and were connected to the seat of the chair in the same manner as the back. The strangest part of the chair was, in Gretel's opinion, the bottom. Rather than four – or even three – legs, the chair had one column-like leg protruding downwards from the base of the seat of the chair. At the bottom of the column were five horizontal legs, each with a wheel attached.

Out of curiosity, Gretel hopped out of bed and sat down in the chair, giving herself an experimental push. The chair glided across the room, and Gretel had never known that such a thing was possible. Unable to help herself, she giggled.

"I'm going to assume you're awake," she heard a dry voice say. Turning, Gretel saw the pretty woman from the other night – Namie – standing in the doorway, arms crossed. "Your dress is in the wash, by the way." the woman walked over to the dresser and pulled out what looked like a black sailor uniform, with a skirt instead of pants and a red tie instead of a plain collar.

"What's that?" Gretel asked, tilting her head curiously.

"A sailor _fuku_," Namie said dismissively. "It's a schoolgirl uniform – one of Izaya's little sister's. You'll be wearing this until we can get you some proper clothes." Gretel blinked.

"What's wrong with my dress?" she asked. Namie snorted.

"You're trying to fit into modern society," the cold woman informed her. "Not some medieval cosplay." Gretel didn't really care enough to argue, so instead she simply adjusted her wig and followed Namie down the stairs.

*0.832 seconds later*

Izaya was making French toast. Cinnamon French toast, which, in Namie's opinion, was the only good kind of French toast – others were simply subpar. It was one of the only things she and Izaya shared an opinion on, and it was also one of the only things Izaya really knew how to make, a fact that she enjoyed rubbing in his face. When the two females entered the kitchen, he turned to grin at them.

"Two lovely young ladies have entered my home!" he exclaimed, pressing a hand over his heart. "Alas, what shall I do?"

"Give us toast." Gretel told him. She'd never had French toast before, but she'd heard good things about it from some of her victims and some of her employers (most of whom had also been victims). Izaya nodded sagely.

"Ah yes, toast," he began, voice acquiring a British accent for some reason. "I did say I would make some for the lovely Miss Namie, yet, alas! I don't seem to have any." Gretel tilted her head to the side.

"I can smell it," she told him. "I can also see it. You're too skinny to hide it with your body, you know." The hand over the man's heart clutched at his chest dramatically.

"Such crueler words hath ne'er been spoke," he declared. "Alas, young Gretel, I have neither toast nor gingerbread. I do, however, have SUPER TOAST!" Gretel couldn't help it. She giggled. Namie, on the other hand, rolled her eyes.

"Just ignore him," she told Gretel. "If you pay too much attention to him, he'll start to think he's actually funny." Izaya sulked a little at this.

"But Namie, she speaks English!" he protested. "I had to reference an English show!" Gretel wondered if Namie's eyes still functioned properly considering how much she rolled them.

"A show she's _probably never seen_," the woman snapped, pushing past her boss in order to serve up the French toast before it got cold. Gretel noticed that she intentionally gave Izaya the smallest piece. Izaya also noticed, and opened his mouth to complain. Namie, who was apparently prepared for all things, shoved a forkful of French toast into his mouth.

"Mmmf!" Izaya whined.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Namie told him. "You're setting a bad example for the poor child." Izaya swallowed, and then responded.

"Why, Namie-san, I didn't know you could show sympathy for anyone other than little Seiji-kun!" he cheered. "Don't tell me – simply being in my presence has melted your cold heart!" she pinched him. "Ow!"

"I'll show sympathy for anyone who has to spend any amount of time with you, especially a year." She snapped. "The only good thing coming out of this is that you'll probably be dead in a year."

"You have no faith in me," Izaya noted. "But, that means you've only got three hundred and sixty three days left in my presence, so you should spend as much time with me as possible!"

"I think he wants to sleep with you," Gretel said, not looking up from her toast. It _was_ very good.

"Oh gee, _ya think_?" Namie growled. Izaya opened his mouth again and Namie raised her fork. "One more word, Orihara, and I swear I'll shove that toast down your throat." Izaya grinned.

"Namie-san is offering to feed me?" he beamed. "I'm honored, Namie-san, but that's a pretty big step in a relationship."

"You're trying to sleep with her," Gretel pointed out. "You don't have any room to talk." Namie smirked and patted the younger girl on the head in an odd show of affection, though it was likely insincere.

"I like this kid," she declared. "Do your best to keep her alive for a bit."

Gretel was fairly certain that she would be dead within the week.

*After Breakfast*

"The first thing you need to know about being a normal human being," Izaya began in a grand tone. "Is–"

"Japanese, as she's living in Japan." Namie cut him off. "Which you should have started teaching her by now."

"She's hasn't been here that long," Izaya pointed out. "You wanted me to start teaching her another language in the middle of the night?" Namie shrugged.

"I usually just take the stance that you're doing it wrong, regardless of whatever it is that you're doing," she admitted. Izaya's cheek puffed out in protest.

"That's mean," he told her. Namie's snort made it very clear that his statement was extremely hypocritical.

"I like French toast," Gretel said. "Can we have that for lunch too?" Izaya choked, looking horrified.

"You can't have French toast for _lunch_!" he protested. "That's blasphemy!"

"They do it in the States," Namie informed him. Izaya shook his head sadly.

"Poor deluded States-people," he murmured. Gretel blinked.

"'States-people'?" she questioned. Izaya shrugged.

"There's not really another term for them," he said. "They call themselves 'Americans', but so are the Canadians and the Mexicans, as well as everyone in South America, and I would never show favoritism to my beloved humans."

"Are _you_ human?" Gretel asked.

"He's a nutjob," Namie told her. Gretel decided that that was probably the closest thing to a real answer that she was going to get, so she went back to her room as Izaya and Namie bickered some more. After all, there was a strange chair that was just begging to be further examined.

*Forty minutes of bickering and chair-spinning later*

Gretel looked around the street, unconsciously squeezing her caretaker's hand. She usually was nervous of new places – she and Hansel could gather information just fine, either through sex or violence. But Hansel wasn't here, and Gretel had neither her gun nor her brother's axe. To top it off, she doubted that Izaya would allow her to have sex with anyone. On the boat, Rock had mentioned that most people didn't have sex until they were around twenty (or in their very late teens), and having sex with a minor was illegal. Gretel had already known both of those things, but she hadn't been aware that anyone ever actually paid attention to rules like that. In Romania, you took what you could get, whether it was sex, food, or weapons. Kill, eat, fuck – an easy way to live.

But here, in Shinjuku, it wasn't like that. Perhaps it was solely Japan – after all, Rock had been Japanese as well, so maybe only the Japanese lived in such a strange way. According to Izaya, you weren't supposed to eat rats when you were hungry. You weren't supposed to steal, you weren't supposed to sleep around, you definitely weren't supposed to have sexual relations with your siblings (he had given Namie a very pointed look here, and she had responded with something about his sisters), and you weren't supposed to kill people – in fact, as Izaya told her, guns were illegal in Japan, though they showed up every now and then.

They had only just stepped outside of Izaya's office/home (that too was strange – who lived in their workplace?) when Gretel had instinctively grabbed her caretaker's hand. She felt naked somehow, but not in the sense of actual physical nudity. She had not been allowed to wear her wig, which was confusing, as not wearing the wig meant that she was Hansel. Apparently, she could either be one or the other. Gretel was unsure how Izaya had known that she was the biologically female twin – to her and Hansel, they had been one and the same, so it hadn't mattered, but now she was a girl and only Gretel, which meant that she couldn't be Fratele Meu, which meant that Hansel was _gone_.

Somehow, Izaya had convinced her to speak with Gretel's voice, even though not wearing a wig meant that she was Hansel, as she had tried to tell him. This declaration, however, had been met with an ultimatum – she had one week to pick either Hansel or Gretel, and that was it. They had been switching roles for so long that it had become hobby – necessity. It was a part of her life that she would not have soon. However, she could not allow herself to be Hansel, because Rock had called her Gretel, and Gretel liked Rock far too much to disagree with him. And so, the young girl had decided to grow out her hair. That way she could continue to be Sora Mea without getting confused.

"Are you ready to go, or would you like to stare awkwardly at that car for a little while longer?" Izaya asked. Gretel blinked, looking up at her caretaker, who was smirking down at her, amusement in his eyes.

"How long have we been standing here?" she asked. He shrugged.

"We stepped outside, you immediately froze up and grabbed my hand, and you've been looking at that Honda for the past four and half minutes." He said.

"Oh." Gretel tilted her head to the side. "What were we doing again? I wasn't listening." Izaya laughed.

"You don't have the best attention span, huh?"

"I'm not used to doing much besides killing people and having sex with people," Gretel replied bluntly. "And sometimes, having sex with people I'm going to kill. Occasionally, I have sex with people I've already killed." Izaya looked disgusted.

"Okay, new rule," he declared. "The twelve year old is not allowed to talk about sex or murder."

"I'm thirteen," Gretel said, just to be contradictory. She honestly didn't know how old she was, but thirteen seemed about right.

"I'll find out later," Izaya commented, sounding bored. "I'll find out your birth name too, if you like. Now, we have things to do."

"Such as…?"

"We are going to meet up with someone almost as freaky as you," Izaya told her bluntly. "That way, you'll get a better understanding of how someone lacking in basic human mannerisms can get by in the life of a human being."

"A retired assassin?" Gretel asked. That's what she was, technically, so it seemed like a good guess. Izaya laughed again.

"I'll introduce you to some of those later," he said. He gave her hand a small tug, and they started walking. "Today, however, we're going to meet a monster."

"A monster?" Gretel looked up at him, wondering if he was insulting her. She didn't really care if he was, but it wasn't an insult she'd expected from him.

"That's right," Izaya confirmed. "Today, Gretel, we meet a Dullahan!"

"…I don't know what that is."

*At the border of Shinjuku and Toshima*

"_Hello, Courier-san_!" Izaya greeted Celty in Japanese, more out of tradition than anything else. "_You can write in English on that PDA of yours, right? Assuming you know English, that is_."

[[I'm fluent,]] Celty told him. [[Mind telling me who the kid is? The last time I transported a kid was Akane-chan, and that ended with you in the hospital, if I remember correctly.]]

"Ah, I don't need you to transport her," Izaya assured her. "I just thought she should meet you." Celty's head fell forward in her version of a sigh, and she knelt down in front of Gretel.

[[Mine name's Celty,]] she said. [[Who are you?]]

"I'm Gretel," said Gretel. "Izaya says you're a Dullahan." Celty nodded. "I don't know what a Dullahan is." Gretel told her.

"A Dullahan is an Irish fairy of the Unseelie Court," Izaya explained. "A headless horseman – horsewoman, in this case – who rides around on an equally headless horse – known as a Coiste-Bodhar – carrying their head underneath their arm. Should anyone be foolish enough to open their door when a Dullahan passes, said Dullahan will dump a bucket of blood over their head."

"She's riding a motorcycle, there's no bucket of blood anywhere in sight, and she's got a helmet," Gretel pointed out. "Also, why would an Irish fairy be in Japan?"

[[I lost my head,]] Celty explained. She lifted her helmet so that Gretel could see the black smoke rising from her neck before lowering it again so as not to cause a scene. [[Shooter is a motorcycle now because it's easier to get a motorcycle around than a headless horse, and I'm in Japan because my head is somewhere in Japan. I've actually stopped looking for it, though.]]

"She fell in _lurve_," Izaya sang, snickering. Celty gave him what was likely a very dark look.

"You said she was a monster," Gretel said, surprisingly unperturbed.

[[Technically, I am.]] Celty told her. [[You're taking this very well, by the way.]] Gretel shrugged.

"To be entirely honest, I've seen stranger." She said simply. It was true, in Gretel's book – she had met a decent human being (Rock), which was far more alien to her than a woman without a head.

[[Izaya didn't kidnap you, did he?]] Celty asked. [[If he did, I can stab him a few times for you.]]

"Miss Courier, I'm hurt!" Izaya proclaimed dramatically. If Celty had had eyes, she would have rolled them. "I would _never_!"

"You seem like the kind of person who would kidnap someone," Gretel commented. Izaya looked put out. "He didn't kidnap me, though. He's just going to be my caretaker for a bit."

"Yep!" Izaya grinned, and Celty felt a sense of apprehension rise within her. "I have one year to teach her how to be a normal little girl, or else we both die!"

"Rock dies too," Gretel mentioned, though she doubted that either of them knew who Rock was.

[[Seriously?]] Celty didn't look entirely convinced. It was surprising, Gretel thought, that someone without a face could be so expressive. [[Oh god, you poor thing. Why would anyone ask _you_ to do something like that?]] Izaya snorted.

"Gretel here is a former serial killer," he said flatly. "Also, I owe someone a favor. Trust me, Courier, if you knew the shit this kid pulled, you'd be pitying _me_."

"That's probably true," Gretel said. Celty looked back and forth between the potentially homicidal sociopath and the little girl.

[[You called me here to get me to tell Shizuo that he has to leave you alone unless he wants to be responsible for the death of a little girl, didn't you.]] She stated. It wasn't a question. Izaya grinned manically.

"Got it in one, Courier~!"

**AN: So I don't know how old Gretel is, nor do I know if the twin that survived in this story is canonically female. To be honest, I don't know if either twin was female. Maybe they were both male. Either way, in this story, the twin that was Gretel at the end of the Vampire Twins arc is biologically female, and the twin that was Hansel when they died is – was – biologically male. I'm also considering changing the rating of this story to 'M', because, even though this **_**is**_** a humor story, most Black Lagoon fics have to deal with some pretty serious topics. Since Gretel is, well, Gretel, I'll probably have to go into her backstory a bit, which is gonna suck. I will not be writing any rape scenes for this fic, partly because that's not the kind of story this is, and partly because I have firmly stated on my profile that I will never ever write pedophilia. I would like some feedback on whether or not I should change the rating, though.**

**Also! I did mention this in one of the ANs for 'Deicide', but have you guys heard Vorona's English voice? "Good evening, my Halloween knight." Oh. My. God. I love the English dub for Durarara, though I watched the Japanese dub too. I think Brina Palencia is one of new favorite voice actors (along with JYB, Crispin Freeman, Stephanie Sheh, Laura Bailey, and a billion others). Well, at the very least, I'm glad that I was able to get this chapter up on time, and I hope you won't have to wait so long for the next chapter. See you next time!**


	3. Excess Sarcasm

**AN: Okay, gonna be honest – I wasn't originally going to start this chapter so soon. Everyone who likes this story has **archsage328** to thank for this chapter, because they renewed my inspiration for this story in a way no one else ever has. I hope they don't mind, but I'm going to share their incredible review with everyone, because it really was breathtaking.**

What a fascinating concept! People will always get into an argument regarding whether Hansel and Gretel could have EVER actually been SAVED, but given what the writer of Baccano! and Durarara! tends to do with criminals in general (for example, the whole deal with Hollywood), I would not be surprised to see Izaya actually pull this stunt off (which you admittedly confirm right in the first chapter, in a way similar to the writer of said two series), if for no other reason than that he might find it amusing to see if he can actually teach someone who lost their humanity how to get it back. Also, I recall few, if any, spelling or grammar errors, and while I think it would have been far more fun if you left Gretel's true gender a mystery, just for the sake of messing with everyone in Ikebukuro (some days playing the role of Gretel, and some days playing the role of the deceased Hansel), I guess that would kind of go against the point of why Gretel came to Japan in the first place.

In addition, I love the dynamic you have going between Izaya, Namie, and Gretel. I can really see them becoming akin to a family. On top of that, you seem to have a really strong grasp on everyone's characters. It's both believable and somewhat sad that Gretel's under-reaction to Celty is solely due to the fact that the existence of one such as her is far easier to comprehend than someone who is a decent person who follows a code of morals they take pride in like Rock. Also, glad to hear you're a fellow fan of the English voice actors as well. Hooray for great voice actors!

**I hope I don't have to explain why this review was so absolutely wonderful, but I'll tell you this: the only flaw in the entire thing was a missing exclamation point after "Durarara". So not only did this give me incredible feedback, with actual 'evidence' (god, lit class is corrupting me), and prove that they read my author's notes, but they also had no spelling or grammar errors! I mean, those don't **_**really**_** affect the quality of a review, but it makes me really happy that someone liked my story enough to give it such excellent feedback, and I know I'm gushing, but I'm super happy right now. Well, I'll stop rambling and get on with writing this, because, honestly, I can't wait until the inevitable Izaya/Shenhua knife fight, because that would be **_**badass**_** in reality. I mean, Shenhua's better with knives and has more experience, but Izaya is more agile and a lot more durable, so… well, I guess we'll find out one of these days!**

Sometimes, Heiwajima Shizuo thought that the universe was out to drive him crazy. Other times, he was absolutely convinced. He took a deep breath, partly because he didn't want to yell at his best friend, and partly because he wanted to set a good example for his kōhai.

"Let me get this straight," he began. "What you're saying is that, if I kill Izaya within the next year, I will also be responsible for the death of a little girl?"

[[Or boy,]] Celty told him. [[I mean, he _said_ she was a girl, but I couldn't really tell, and this _is_ Izaya, so…]] Shizuo closed his eyes.

"He's going to come here as often as possible, isn't he." He didn't bother to phrase it as a question, because it really wasn't. "And I can't even maim him a little?"

[[I wouldn't risk it,]] Celty said. [[I mean, if he can't take care of her, then… but he said something about her being a serial killer, so if she kills anyone, he's as good as dead.]] Shizuo opened his eyes and blinked.

"Somebody asked that fleabag to try and _un_-screw-up someone?" he asked, mildly horrified. "Well, on the bright side, I'll be able to kill him pretty soon, because that girl is doomed." Vorona stepped forward.

"Extermination of noxious insect required?" she asked, her face blank. Shizuo patted her head, smiling fondly.

"No, no, extermination is bad," he told her. She nodded. Celty glanced at her.

[[You know, you sound _really_ familiar…]] the headless woman mused. [[Have we met before?]] Vorona silently thanked whatever gods were out there that everyone she knew was either insane, stupid, or both.

*Shinjuku, around the same time*

Gretel felt very strange as she walked down the street, still holding her caretaker's hand. Izaya was chattering away about the various places, though he must have known that she was only half listening. Every now and then, the two would get an odd look from the people around them, not because an obviously Japanese person was speaking very quickly in English, but because he was holding onto the hand of a child with silver hair, which almost always happened solely in anime. Still, no one stared for too long, probably because this was Tokyo and they'd all seen stranger things before.

"And this," said Izaya cheerfully, "is the border between Shinjuku and Toshima. We won't go there today, but there are some pretty scary people there~"

"Like that headless lady?" Gretel wondered. "She wasn't too scary."

"No, much worse!" Izaya chirped happily. "There's a guy who's strong enough to through vending machines, a bunch of gangs, a girl with a possessed sword, a perverted doctor, psycho high schoolers, and a bunch of Russian assassins."

"That's not funny," Gretel told him, frowning. His grin widened.

"Who's joking?"

*Roanapur, Black Lagoon Residence, not enough alcohol*

Revy's eyebrow twitched. Rock had been pacing back and forth ever since they'd returned from dropping off the little psycho bitch, and Revy was getting very close to drawing a gun.

"Would ya cut that out?" she snarled. Rock glanced at her.

"What?" He stared blankly at her. "Oh, the pacing? Sorry, I was just–"

"Wondering how Little Miss Psycho is doing," Revy finished. Across the room, Benny coughed. It sounded a lot like 'hypocrite'. Revy thought it was testament to her growing self-control that she didn't murder him. Rock laughed sheepishly.

"Yeah, well," he scratched the back of his head and turned to look out the window. "I'm worried about her." Revy snorted.

"_Why_?" she asked flatly. "I know you've got this 'nice guy' thing going on, but she can take care of herself." Rock shook his head.

"Japan's not like Roanapur," he sighed. "I mean, not many places are, but… look, Revy, 'Orihara' is a pretty common surname, but 'Izaya' is just _weird_. I looked it up, but I couldn't find anything until I tried 'Orihara' and 'informant' together. He spells his name really strangely. More importantly, though, he's done business with, well, everyone. Most of the people I asked online either told me he was 'hot' or to stay the hell away from him. He's a dangerous guy." Revy shrugged, deciding not to ask where the hell Rock had found Internet connection. Sometimes, it was better not to know.

"So is Dutch," she pointed out. "Hell, you are too, kinda." Rock nodded.

"Yeah, but this guy's got a lot of enemies." He shook his head, and turned to face her. "You're right, I'm probably just over-thinking it."

*Somewhere in Japan with better Internet connection than Roanapur*

The girl stared at the screen in front of her. _Orihara Izaya… he's taking care of a Romanian assassin? I've heard of that girl… I thought there were two of them, though – twins. I hope he can keep her on a leash_. The girl smiled to herself, closing her computer and trotting over to her boyfriend. If that silver-haired bitch tried anything… well, she would be ready.

*Izaya's office/house/apartment complex*

Dinner, Gretel thought, was not quite as good as breakfast. Not that she disliked what she was eating, but it just wasn't as good as cinnamon French toast.

"Does he always make you cook for him?" she asked Namie. The woman made an annoyed sound.

"Yes." she said flatly. "Yes, he does." Gretel looked at Izaya's currently empty chair. Namie caught the unspoken question. "Yes, he makes me cook even when he's not here." She took a bite of curry, and then spoke again. "Of course, he actually likes my cooking, so it's strange for him to not show up. Usually it just means he had an emergency meeting or an unstable client, but one time he was stabbed and ended up in the hospital." She didn't sound very bothered.

"You must really hate him," Gretel observed. Namie shrugged.

"Everyone does," she told the girl. "Anyone who knows him, anyway. Even his so-called best friend probably wouldn't care if he were hit by a truck."

"That sounds lonely," Gretel thought out loud. It wasn't empathy, but an odd sort of childish curiosity. In a setting where she wasn't in constant danger, she felt a little more comfortable being inquisitive.

"He brought it upon himself," Namie said. "If he weren't such a jackass, people would probably like him more." Gretel nodded thoughtfully.

"Is there anyone who does like him?" she wondered. Namie shot her a look.

"If you're planning to murder him, then I doubt anyone will care," she said flatly. "But wait until after I've gotten my paycheck." Gretel looked at her blankly for a moment. Namie sighed, finally deigning to answer the younger girl's question. "I don't know. There was one girl who practically worshipped him, but I guess she figured out that he wasn't everything she thought he was." Gretel thought this over for a moment, then pushed aside her curry and returned to her salad. She wasn't sure why, but something about Namie's words gave her a sense of foreboding that didn't seem likely to go away anytime soon.

Nearly ten minutes into the uncomfortable silence broken only by the sound of chewing, Izaya walked into the kitchen, and then continued to his desk, sitting down in front of his laptop with an exasperated sigh.

"Some people," he began, "are beyond unreasonable." Namie stood, packing the remainder of her cooking in a Tupperware™ container, clearly understanding that her boss would not be eating anytime soon.

"Another run-in with 'Shizu-chan'?" She asked. Gretel noticed the hint of a smirk on her face. Izaya shook his head, flipping open his laptop.

"Nope," he murmured, only half paying attention. "Just another guy who thinks 'informant' is equivalent to 'stalker'."

"What do you mean?" Gretel asked, swallowing her last mouthful of salad and dragging her curry back towards her to finish.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Izaya told her, not looking up. "And what I mean is that this guy wanted me to follow his wife around." Namie sighed.

"Another guy convinced his wife is cheating on him," she said, looking annoyed. Izaya shook his head.

"Nothing like that," he said, yawning. "He just wants me to follow her around as a prank or something."

"That's dumb," Gretel piped up. "He could just–"

"I don't want to know what _you_ think he should have done," Izaya interrupted, looking aggravated. "Actually, it's past ten. You should be in bed." He sent his secretary an irritated look, and Namie's smirk widened.

"Oh, my apologies," she said, sounding far too happy. "But I always let Seiji stay up as long as he wanted. I just assumed that that was normal."

"Nothing involving your brother is normal," Izaya said absently. "But if you're basing your babysitting on your experience with Seiji-kun, then go tuck Gretel into bed and give her lots of kisses." Namie's smirk was replaced with a scowl, and she turned towards Gretel.

"Come on," she snapped, tossing her hair over her shoulder. She stalked out of the room, and Gretel began to follow. Suddenly, she stopped, turning to face her caretaker.

"Thank you," she said quietly. She was pretty sure he hadn't heard her, but that was okay. She had plenty of time, after all. As she followed Namie upstairs to her room, Gretel looked out the window, just for a moment. It was very dark, but, somehow, the sky had never been so blue.

**AN: To be honest, this chapter was a lot shorter than I wanted it to be. On the other hand, I did manage to write this all in one day, which is something I've never really done before. I won't post it immediately, because I want to make sure it's good, but I'll post it soon! Actually, if you're reading this, it's already been posted (duh). To be honest, I don't really know where this story is going or what I want to do with it. In fact, I don't even have too much to say in the Author's Note, which is weird, because I'm normally pretty chatty here. It must be the finals. Seriously… I have given this story a lot of thought, and there are a couple things I'm gonna need to do before anything really interesting happens (like teaching Gretel Japanese, which will be hard, as **_**I'm**_** still learning myself), but hopefully you all enjoyed this chapter! Thanks for reading!**


	4. Gretel in Wonder School

**AN: Okay, okay took way too long to start this. I got drawn back into Fairy Tail, and that fandom is slowly taking over my life. Once I finish all my not-FT stuff, I'm probably going to start writing exclusively for Fairy Tail, because there's really not much else I can think of to do. Granted, I'll probably write some other things every now and again, but it's so hard to find people who want to read anything aside from gay porn nowadays, and yaoi really isn't my style. In actuality, sex scenes in general aren't my style – not to say that I haven't written any. I've implied sex in **Deicide**, mentioned sex in this story and in **Death Becomes Her**, joked about sex in **Acnologia** and **My Lawyer**, and I actually did write a sex scene in **The Importance of Being Human**, which, at the time of my writing this, has yet to be posted. Hopefully, that'll happen soon. Anyhow, here's the next chapter of **A Fate Worse Than Death**!**

Chapter Four: Gretel in Wonder School

Gretel was, most likely, too young to go to high school, but she really didn't think she'd fit in at an elementary school (or anywhere else, for that matter). Then again, she'd never really had a formal education. It was actually pretty amazing that she could tie her own shoes. In any case, she was small enough to pass as an elementary student, so Raira Elementary was where Izaya had decided to send her, though he probably had an ulterior motive or two – or eight. It had taken only one month for Gretel to learn enough of the Japanese language to get by, which was mostly because that was all she had done the entire time. Now, standing in front of her new classmates, most of who were staring at her now-shoulder-length silver hair, Gretel wondered if maybe this was a bad idea.

As elementary student, Gretel was not required to wear a uniform, and, while Namie had forced her to wear something a _little_ more suitable for modern society, Gretel still refused to wear a skirt. She liked dresses, even when she had been Fratele Meu, and she was not at all interested in changing her attire. In fact, had Namie not burned the damn thing, Gretel would be wearing her old dress here as well. She already stood out, so there was no reason to dress normally. The whispers had already started, but Gretel was hardly paying attention.

"Class," said the teacher. "This is our new student, Gurēteru. She's come here all the way from Romania." One boy raised his hand.

"Isn't that in Italy?" he asked. Gretel blinked.

"No," she told him. "Italy is in southern Europe, whereas Romania is in south_east_ern Europe. The capital of Italy is the city of Rome, which I assume is where you made your mistake, but Romania is its own country, and the capital is Bucharest. But that's all quite irrelevant. I was born in Romania, but I came here from Thailand." It was best, Gretel decided, not to say which part of Thailand in particular. The class was already staring at her as thought she'd come from outer space. In hindsight, Izaya probably should have focused a bit more on teaching how to talk like a preteen. She was, most likely, about a year or two older than most of her classmates. Still, Gretel wasn't too worried.

"Well," the teacher hesitated. "Gurēteru-chan, why don't you sit down next to Momo-chan?" A girl with light brown hair in two short pigtails hesitantly stood up, waving at Gretel nervously. Gretel shrugged, picked up her bag, and sat down in the designated seat. She ignored the stares of the other children for the rest of the lesson. At snack time, however, a confrontation was inevitable.

*Raira Elementary, Snack Time*

"What's wrong with your hair?" was the first question.

"Well, I'd like it to be a bit longer." Gretel responded flippantly. She was surrounded by children – most of them were from her class, but some just seemed to have gather because there was apparently something to look at. "The way it is now reminds me of Fratele Meu." The boy who had asked the question stared at her dumbly. "My brother," she clarified. "Hänsel."

"Where is he?" a girl asked. "Why didn't he come here with you?"

"He's dead," Gretel explained. There were gasps.

"Oh no!" the girl exclaimed. "How did he die?"

"Don't ask that!" another girl yelped. "That's rude!"

"He was shot," Gretel told them. "It happened a couple months ago."

"Is that why you came here?" the first boy asked. Gretel nodded, figuring that that was probably close enough to the truth.

"Is whoever shot him gonna come after you too?" another boy asked, looking worried. Gretel thought about it.

"I don't think so," she replied. "They might. You won't have anything to worry about, though. I think." A rather large boy pushed his way to the front of the crowd.

"I don't believe you," he declared. "I think you're just trying to scare us. You probably don't even have a brother."

"Well, no," Gretel told him. "He's dead." The boy ignored her.

"What kind of parent names their kids 'Henzeru' and 'Gurēteru'?" he continued. "Those are weird names."

"I don't know my real name," Gretel explained. "I don't know my parents either. I'm from _Romania_. Also, my name is 'Gretel', not 'Gurēteru'." She knew, of course, that 'Gurēteru' was the Japanese pronunciation of her name, and Izaya had warned her that few people would get it right, but she still felt a tinge of glee at the look on the boy's face when he tried and failed to get his tongue to move properly.

"Well, whatever," he said loudly. "I bet your brother died a long time ago, if he ever even existed–"

"Two months." Gretel interrupted. There was an awkward silence. Gretel's smile had disappeared completely, and there was a rather sharp look in her eye, as though she was daring the boy to say something else. "He died two months ago."

"I –" the boy began.

"Oh, leave her alone, Kenta," a girl interrupted, stepping forward. She was probably a year below Gretel, and she had short black hair, with surprisingly long bangs. She was frowning. Gretel watched, interested, as about a third of the kids backed up, another third ran away entirely, and the last third began to look extremely nervous.

"A-A-Akane-chan!" the boy, Kenta, exclaimed. He was pale and sweaty now, as opposed to his previously confident demeanor. He took a step back, mumbled out an apology, and then fled. Quickly, the rest of the children surrounding Gretel disappeared as well, leaving only Gretel, Akane, and a group of three girls that hung a few feet behind the dark-haired girl. Akane sighed.

"I'm Awakusu Akane," she said, bowing. Gretel tilted her head to the side.

"Gretel." She said simply. "Just Gretel."

"Gurēteru?" Akane tried. "Uh, sorry. Gurēta? Um, I–"

"It's all right," Gretel told her. "My caretaker said most people wouldn't be able to pronounce my name. I only corrected him because he was annoying." Akane nodded, smiling.

"Kenta isn't that bad," she assured the older girl. "He's the youngest of twelve brothers, so he doesn't get a lot of attention, I think." Gretel frowned.

"Why would someone have twelve children?" she wondered. In Romania, even one child was often too much.

"That's a good question," one of the girls behind Akane piped up. "I've always wondered about that, actually."

"It could be a religious thing," another girl said.

"Oh!" Akane stood up straight, gesturing to the girls behind her. "These are my friends, Kanade, Hanako, and Chihiro." The three girls looked too similar to Gretel, and they all sounded the same, so Gretel decided not to bother with remembering their names. She could always improvise later, after all.

*Raira Elementary, After School*

Spending time with Akane, Gretel soon learned, was a good way to pass the time when there wasn't any actual learning going on. The girl herself was pretty interesting, though the friends that followed her around had, respectively, all the personality of sandpaper, motor oil, and extremely watery soup. They were so dull, in fact, that one of them didn't seem to notice when Gretel called her Alexandra.

"Your friends are pathetically boring," Gretel told Akane, after the latter's friends had all gone home. Akane nodded sheepishly.

"Yes, well," she mumbled. "They're not scared of me. I take what I can get."

"That's fair," Gretel told her. She didn't bother asking Akane why people were afraid of her. She didn't honestly care. The other girl was _interesting_, and at this point, she could have been an undercover FBI agent for all Gretel cared.

"Gretel!" she heard Namie call. Gretel wasn't sure why Izaya had sent a wanted woman to an elementary school, but she decided it was probably just to mess with people. Akane's face lit up.

"Nakura-san!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around the woman's waist.

"Akane-chan?" Namie looked surprised for a moment, and then a tad annoyed, but she quickly smiled. It was a very beautiful smile – and, had Gretel not spent a month with the woman, she might have bought it. As it was, Gretel had seen more realistic smiles from people who 'just wanted to help' her. Except for Rock, of course, but that was a given.

"What's Nakura-san doing here?" Akane asked, beaming up at the woman.

"Ah, I'm doing a favor for a friend and picking up Gretel here," Namie explained. Gretel tilted her head to the side as she watched, wondering what that favor had been. She knew how buses worked, so there was no reason for Namie to have to do anything at all. That, and there was no way Namie would refer to Izaya as 'a friend'. Two almost identical heads made themselves visible in the backseat of Namie's car. Akane gasped.

"Mairu-senpai! Kururi-senpai!" she waved at them. One of the girls – the one with short hair – waved back, but the other actually got out of the car. Right away, Gretel liked them.

"Na- Nakura-san here was driving us back from my martial arts class," the braided girl told Akane. Gretel's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. If they were aware of Namie's identity, they didn't intend to reveal it. Interesting, as it was obvious that none of them had had any knowledge that Akane would be at their final destination.

"Come on, Gretel!" Namie called to her. Gretel stepped forward, and the braided girl looked up at her. The world seemed to stop. Gretel stared straight at the braided girl, who stared right back. She grinned.

"I'm Orihara Mairu," she said cheerfully. "And that's my sister Kururi. You're the girl Iza-nii is taking care of, right?" Gretel nodded, still staring. Mairu skipped over to her and leaned in. "Well?" she asked. "What's your name, then?"

"Didn't you hear Nakura?" Gretel asked, barely remembering not to use Namie's real name. Mairu grinned devilishly at her.

"Gretel, right?" she asked. Gretel nodded, startled. "Iza-nii made us learn English," Mairu told her. "So don't be too surprised, okay?" And then, Mairu did something Gretel had not seen coming – she leaned in and kissed her. It was a different kind of kiss than Gretel was used to. Not the possessive, hungry kiss she often shared with her twin, nor the scary lustful kisses of horny old men with nothing better to do than listen to her scream; this kiss was chaste and innocent.

"Mairu… frighten… (Stop that Mairu, you'll scare her)" the other twin spoke up. Mairu pulled back, and turned to grin at her sister.

"I couldn't help it," she protested. "She's just so cute." Namie sighed.

"If you three aren't in the car in ten seconds," the woman said calmly. "I will personally ensure that you walk home." Mairu grabbed the still-stunned Romanian's hand and tugged her towards the car.

"We're coming!"

*Ikebukuro, 16:42*

"Izaya's taking care of a kid?" Shinra asked, surprised. Celty nodded.

[[Yeah, isn't that weird?]] She asked her boyfriend. [[I mean, I didn't think Izaya liked kids. He keeps trying to get them to kill themselves, so…]]

"He loves all humans," Shinra noted. "Age isn't really a factor in that."

[[I see…]] Celty replied. [[Out of curiosity, Shinra, have you heard of a serial killer with the alias 'Gretel'?]] Shinra peered at the PDA.

"Not a solo one," he replied. "There's always the nuts who use fairy tales and the like, but there's not going to be a 'Gretel' without a 'Hansel'. Of course, there are different spellings of both names." Celty's shoulders dropped in relief. So Izaya had just been joking… that was good.

Shinra watched his girlfriend walk off to take a shower, eyes narrowed. As much as he would love to peep on her – or, better yet, join her – there was an urgent phone call just begging to be made.

_Izaya_…

*Ikebukuro, Town Square, Two Very Strange Tourists*

"Isaac! I have a question!"

"What's that, Miria, my dear?"

"If the Slasher is with the Dollars, does that mean he's our ally?"

"That's exactly it, Miria!"

"But Isaac, why was he attacking other members of the Dollars?"

"Well… you see, Miria, the Slasher has a mental illness that forces him to cut people, but his good nature stops him from actually killing them! Since the Dollars were fighting the Yellow Scarves, the Slasher went after them, but then he felt bad about it and slashed up some of the Dollars to even things out!"

"Oh wow, Isaac! You're a genius! Ikebukuro is just so amazing! I'm not exactly sure I get it, but I'm so excited!"

**AN: At first, I didn't know how to end this chapter. Then, I remembered that Isaac and Miria are technically part of the Durarara! cast, and I realized that this fic was just begging for them to be included. For those of you who aren't fans of any other Narita series (they're all interconnected, so go read them, seriously), I only intend to bring in characters that were acknowledged by name in Durarara!, like that wrestler guy Shizuo likes whose name I don't remember how to spell. He'll be mentioned, maybe, but he's not going to show up. Aside from Isaac and Miria, the only characters that **_**might**_** show up are Mamiya from Vamp! (solely because I am absolutely convinced that he is related to Manami), an Immortal or two from Baccano! (possibly also Clare or Chane because **_**Clare and Chane**_**), maybe Sōji from Etsusa Bridge (only as a kid, though, like in Deicide), and probably Czeslaw because he and Gretel both need hugs. I'm going to mention Hariyama-san at some point, just for laughs. You don't need to know anything about those guys but what I'm going to bother mentioning here. Lastly, does anyone else think that Sorano from Fairy Tail is a lot like Gretel in a sense? Well, anyway, thanks for reading!**


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